This is My Life
by fireprincessforever
Summary: 15 year old Casslyn Marie Winston, "Cass", always dealt with a hard life. When Dallas ran off to Tulsa, he made his sister swear to never look for him. But after boredom gets a hold of her, she takes an adventure. Her plan? Show up, live life, hopefully see some action. But soon fate has her falling for a certain puppy eyed Greaser...how can this turn out? Only time will tell.
1. Searching

Chapter one

Darkness engulfed me as I slowly made my way through the blackened, noisy New York streets. Only the dim street lights kept me walking straight. A car horn blared fairly close to me, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. I pulled my thin black leather jacket tighter around me as I walked along. Glory, was it cold! My fingers felt like ice. The wind whipped, blowing my dark brown hair every which way. I was shivering something fierce. Mentally smacking myself, I couldn't believe I almost forgot my jacket when I left. If Dallas knew I'd been that close to doing something so stupid, I'm sure he'd want to crack my head against a brick wall.

My name is Casslyn, Casslyn Marie Winston, but I go by Cass. Dallas is my older brother; everyone calls him either Dal or Dally. I gave him that nickname ya know. It's actually kind of a cute story. See, when I was about a year old and Dallas was three, I couldn't talk real good yet, so I just started calling him Dally...well, _sometimes_ I'd call him Dally. Ninety percent of the time I saw him I'd just burst into giggles at his pathetic-and _extremely_ messy-attempts slick back his thick brown locks with dad's hair grease.

I smiled at the memory. That's all it was and all it would ever be, a memory. Everything in our house stayed pretty peaceful over the next couple of years. Well, as peaceful as humanly possible considering we lived on the north side of New York. Then, when I turned five, well...let's just say that's when everything started to go bad.

Now I'm not talking finances or anything like that, although I can tell you we definitely weren't high up on the financial ladder. I'm talking about mom and dad's relationship. It went bad, fast; kind of like when people forget to trash the meat that's been rotting in their fridge for three weeks.

Mom had threatened to leave dad, to this day I still don't know why, but she did. Dal once told me it was 'cause she felt like she had to raise us alone, which she practically was. Ya see, dad had a little problem with drinking, only it wasn't anywhere near a _little _problem. I think that's what ticked mom off the worst, not that he was drinking-although that did make her mad-but that he tried to lie about it to her face.

Over time dad's drinking habit got worse and worse. Me and Dal couldn't ever have friends over 'cause there were always beer bottles scattered every which way on our living room floor; and pretty much every other crevasse of our house too. It was bad enough he drank anyway, but stuff got even worse when dad drank and was ticked off at somebody. When that happened Dally and me just hid in the closet upstairs in my room- the lights off of course-and waited out his noisy, drunken rampages til he either left to get more beer or passed out on the couch.

There was one time though...glory, I don't think I'll ever forget that day-_ever._ I was seven at the time. Dad was going crazy, not only because he'd gotten himself drunk, (I would've been able to hide from that...maybe.) he was totally ticked because he lost on some idiotic five thousand dollar bet that he had made with one of his friends. He went after Dally and me harder than he ever had. I'd never been so horrified in my life. The worst part was, dad made sure mom wasn't home when it happened.

Anyway, long story short, he chased us around for a while to wear us out so we couldn't fight back and probably a whole bunch of other reasons too. I remember it like a scary horror movie. He forced both of us back against a wall, his 10 inch open switchblade in his hand. He took a dive for Dally, but even though I was only seven, I decided to take a major chance. I was sick of my older brother always trying to protect me. I decided then and there, we were gonna switch roles that time. At that minute, I jumped in front of Dally and shoved him behind me, just as I felt the blade slide across my arm.

The minute my mom came back and saw me on the couch, almost bleeding to death because of that stupid cut, she decided she'd been taken too far. She got me and Dallas out of there fast and took us somewhere, I don't remember exactly where. The eight inch cut on my arm healed by itself, barely. At least I had a pretty tuff lookin scar on my arm.

I didn't really think of it as tuff until I started third grade and I heard all the guys talking about how rough I was. I had told them that I was like a Cobra; peaceful, but fierce and able to strike hard when provoked. That was me alright, still is...Casstin the Cobra. It's kind of a nickname. With me it's Casslyn, Cass, or Cobra. Anything else just might get you a black eye.

Anyway, a month after the incident with dad, Dally ran off and got himself arrested. He told me he got in a fight with one of his "friends", but I think he did it just to get as far away as possible from all of dad's crap.

A week after that he ran off, to someplace called Tulsa. When I asked him where that was he said somewhere in Oklahoma. That is what I was doing after all these years, leaving New York and going to Tulsa to look for Dally. I was going to find my older brother if it killed me.


	2. Confrontations of the Weird and Weider

Chapter two

After about another half mile of walking I finally hit the train station in the middle of the city. I was absolutely freezing and my feet were aching. They hurt _so_ bad. I rubbed my hands together, trying to get some heat into them, which proved useless. I moaned and flung my head up. "Curse this frozen tundra!" I yelled to nobody in particular.

When I regained my control, I walked quietly up to the ticket counter. The guy working it smelled heavily of cigarette smoke. He looked half asleep, barely managing to glance up at me.

"What'da you want?" He asked gruffly as he hung his cigarette out of the side of his mouth, looking me over. "I need a ticket to Tulsa. One-way." He snorted at me. "One-way ticket to Tulsa, huh? What's a pretty little doll like you doin' travelin' so far from home?" Ok, this guy was really starting to tick me off. Stepping forward and readying my hands low at my sides, I put my guard up, ready to fight. I scowled at him. "Just give me my stupid ticket." "Hey now, little lady," He stated, laying my ticket on the counter as I dumped a small pile of quarters on it. "no need to be snappy." I swiped my ticket of the counter in anger. Snappy? I was ready to snap this guy's arm. Holding back, I used the one technique I hadn't thought of. This one had to work.

"I know Dallas Winston, and if you give me any grief I'll-" Something must have clicked because the guy's eyes were...sparkling? With...recognition? Huh? He grinned like the Cheshire Cat. Now I was _really_ creeped out. "Oh, you're Dal's kid sister, aren't you?" He couldn't stop giving me that creepy grin. I backed up a of couple steps. "Um...y-yeah I am." I was mentally starting to panic. How did this guy know me? "Maria, right?" I wondered how many years had gone by since this guy saw me last, probably about twelve.

I relaxed my hands to my sides and rocked back on the heels of my boots. "Ummm….no. Casslyn." He relaxed him grin from "I'm so happy to see you I could explode" to a kind of look that said "Oh hey kid. It's been awhile, what's shakin'?" "Casslyn," He drawled, letting my name roll off his tongue as he blew away a puff of smoke from his cigarette. "you know I haven't seen you since you turned three? What'cha gonna do in Tulsa?" He asked, smiling gently. I hardened my expression a little in an attempt to look like I knew exactly what I was going to do in Tulsa...when in reality, if I never found Dal, I didn't have a fish flipping clue. Looking up at him, I decided to tell him what I thought my plan was...even if I did sound completely off my rocker. "I'm goin' to Tulsa to look for Dally."

He gave me a look of pure shock. "You're what now?" When I opened my mouth to say it again he stopped me. "No, No I-I heard you, I'm just tryin to comprehend all of this...I mean Casslyn, you-you're fifteen are you sure that's a smart idea? I mean it's halfway across the country." I fought the urge to explode and say "I'm goin to Tulsa because I haven't seen my brother in seven years and I don't give a crap how far I have to go because I love him!" As much as me and Dally loved each other, we both refused to admit it….admitting that kind of crap just wasn't tuff.

When that guy-Frank I think his name was-asked me why I was going to Tulsa, _this_ is what I _did _say, and I said it in a rather annoyed tone because I wanted to get going. "I'm sick of this place, sick of spending my time on the streets, plus, there's no..._adventure_ anymore!…I just….ugh! I want out!" Frank smiled sympathetically at me, blowing a ring of smoke from his cigarette. "I understand, but let me tell you this. I don't think you've ever heard this before Casslyn, it's not real common to even say it in these parts, but you're a Greaser, and you'll have it real rough if you get out there and can't hook up with no one."

I had heard about the whole Greaser and Soc fiasco before. My parents fought about it a lot the rare times when me and Dally were young that my dad wasn't rip roarin' drunk. That was basically my life as a kid. When my dad wasn't drinking, he fought; when he didn't fight, he drank. Sometimes he even fought drunk, not with my mom though.

When he wanted a drunken fight he'd go roaming the streets and find someone twice his height to size up. Considering he stood about 6"2, that deemed pretty impossible. He always came home ticked off that nobody wanted to fight him, and he took it out on Dally and me. If it wasn't already obvious, my childhood consisted of nothing but pure crap.

Anyway, I could deal ok living as a Greaser, I didn't care. My brother taught me how to fight for a reason, right? He taught me good too. I could hold my own against anybody. Soc or Greaser, guy or gal, night or day, with or without a weapon, I could pound the crap out of anyone who dared to tangle with Dallas Winston's little sister.

But in my town there was this one girl, kind of the alpha of the city in a way, that _always_ pushed her luck with me. No matter how much I avoided her, we'd always cross paths somewhere, mostly when me and Dally would roam the streets to pass the time as kids. Either me or her would end up with black eyes and a few other bruises after those encounters. We couldn't stand each other. That blonde haired, blue eyed, skinny, skimpy clothed, partier girl went by the name of Sylvia Clark.

Glory, I hated that chick. Her and Dally dated back who knows how many years ago. Ol' Dal actually liked her for a while...until he realized how utterly stupid she was acting trying to get his attention. She was Dally's age, so she's gotta be about seventeen now. Ugh, you know what...enough of this. Even thinking of her gave me a splitting headache.

I readied myself to climb up the gate, the one thing that separated me from hopping on that train and going on the adventure of my life. Just as I got to the top, about to swing my left leg onto the other side, someone yanked me down hard by the back of my jacket collar. I didn't have time to scream before I hit the ground.


	3. A Blast From HIS Past

Chapter three

I groaned. My vision was blurred for a second. When it finally cleared, I saw a tall, blonde figure standing over me. Just looking at her made me want to barf. "Sylvia." I growled her name through clenched teeth. Quickly rolling to the left, I darted off the ground, backing up cautiously. "What'da you want?" I demanded, my light blue eyes piercing into that cocky stare. For once in her life, she didn't look drunk, that was good. Wait...if she's not drunk...then what's with that face? Uh-oh. I was _completely_ unprepared for what happened next. Sylvia Clark broke down bawling in front of me. Glory, what has the world come to?

In between sobs she told me her whole little story. She talked about how much she wanted to see Dallas again and how sorry she was when she bailed on him when they were dating, back when he got hauled in for the first time, blah, blah, blah. Truth be told I couldn't care less about what she said. She was a partier and a two-timer. I knew the real Dallas, the one under all that toughness, and Sylvia didn't deserve a guy like him. Plus, I didn't have time to deal with this girl's games. I had a train to catch.

Turning, I put my leg up to begin climbing the gate again, but Sylvia's hand made a desparate dash for my ankle. Pulling it out of her grip easily, I continued to climb. Smiling to myself, I wondered what Dallas would say when I told him I saw her. He'd probably just shake it off. _He's probably found himself quite a looker._ I pondered, hopping off the top of the fence. _Hopefully he's found someone nice. Me, I just don't know. _Little did I know, when I got to Tulsa, boys would be the _least_ of my problems.


End file.
